


An Olympic Feat

by PuppetMaster55



Category: Gundam 00
Genre: Alternate Universe - Olympics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:33:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25592842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuppetMaster55/pseuds/PuppetMaster55
Summary: Setsuna has a tough talk with Marina
Kudos: 4





	An Olympic Feat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sapphireswimming](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphireswimming/gifts).



Setsuna liked the simple things.

The annexation and assimilation of Kruges? Complex.

The politics of registering as independent? Complex.

Judo? Simple.

Marina Ismail asking him to consider a peaceful acceptance of the current geopolitical state of his homeland?

Setsuna preferred judo. 

There was an elegance to it, a controlled ferocity that spoke to him on a spiritual level. He grew up in war, molded into a warrior of faith, and hadn’t found it in himself to become anything more than that. The faith was lost early on, leaving only the warrior. Only the monster.

It was said somewhere, Setsuna couldn’t remember where (that wasn’t right, wasn’t true; he remembered, remembered all too well the comforting heat and the stink of gunpowder and death, the warm smiles and soft touches and cold gunmetal) that war made monsters of us all. ~~Ali~~ Setsuna politely disagreed. War didn’t make anyone into monsters. All it did, all it ever was, was reveal the monsters that people already were.

“But the difference between the man and the monster is faith,” he was once told, “the faithful man is no monster, shall never be a monster. For his cause is just, for his way is righteous. The monster is unwilling to sacrifice itself, to sacrifice all that it is, for what it is fighting for. Instead the monster sacrifices others in it’s place, for glory and power. But not us, no. We’re men, men of faith, and for Him we would gladly lay down our lives and sacrifice all that we are and all that we have in His name. All to destroy the faithless monsters.”

Setsuna believed those words, once. Setsuna lived those words, once.

Never again.

He found that there were no monsters without faith, there were only those that didn’t want to die. War didn’t make monsters, it didn’t draw them out of it’s warriors. What it did, was draw the monsters out of hiding, so that they may convince ordinary people to die for them.

Setsuna once found that concept difficult for his child mind to wrap around, but as he grew older, he found that that man–no, that monster, was one of the ones that thrived off of war.

Setsuna still believed in his homeland, still believed that Kruges was wronged and lost for a petty cause. But he did not believe in war. He did not believe in faith. He believed in Kruges, tall and regal and proud. He believed in a country that no longer existed.

He believed in judo. It had rules, it had structure. Nothing would change with it, would alter. It was firm, and immutable. Not like Kruges. Not like him.

“I… apologize for my words.”

Setsuna looked up from his bench to see Marina Ismail standing before him, dressed all in green. She wore none of the colors that showed her status. Setsuna wanted to hate that about her.

“Your match,” she continued. “If I had known what my words would do to you, I…”

Ah. His match. The one where he lost any hope of a medal. All because he suddenly began to wonder if he really wanted to keep being a warrior if there was nothing to fight for. If what drove him to become a warrior and what drove him to stay a warrior were no more.

“You spoke honestly,” Setsuna finally said, wiping away the sweat. On the mat, Australia and Egypt’s fighters were engaged in a tense match, both sizing the other up. “My loss had nothing to do with you or your words.”

“Even so,” Marina said, keeping her voice low. “My words to you wouldn’t be insignificant in factoring your defeat. It was your hesitation that lost you the win, not your lack of skill.”

“My hesitation had nothing to do with you.” Setsuna watched as Australia made the first move, only to be parried by Egypt and sent sprawling onto the mat. The buzzer screamed the point, and the two fighters reset.

“If you truly believe that,” Marina sadly replied, “then do not take these words to heart. Here, in this place, you and I are the face of our people. I do not wish for war like my predecessors had, and I do not believe that you want war either. Kruges is only as gone as you want it to be. For me, I see that it is gone in name only.”

“Villages are gone,” Setsuna coldly replied. “Entire histories lie in rubble even to this day. I have seen no effort to rebuild, no desire from your part to reach out to mine.”

“Then what am I doing here?” Marina asked. The buzzer screamed another point. “What are you doing here? With me? How else could you have lost, if I had not reached out, and you reached back?”

The crowd cheered as the final buzzer called the winner. Marina stood over him, resolute in her decision. Setsuna looked up at her, shielded his eyes from the lights shining down behind her. The shadows of the stands cast down on him, wrapped around him like they didn’t with her. She reached a hand out to him.

“Stand with me,” she said. “Stand beside me as my equal. Share with me your history, your homeland. For it is not just yours, but mine now. Become my equal, Ibrahim.”

Setsuna stared at her, stared at the hand offered to him. Ibrahim… it was a name he hadn’t used in a long time, a person he hadn’t been for longer. Ibrahim died with his parents. The boy died and was reborn on the battlefield. Setsuna was born in the aftermath, a shell of a person living with only the barest of goals, with only the thinnest of ties to humanity.

Ibrahim was a boy, a small, scared child drawn to a monster with promises of freedom and His love. The boy was a faithless, nameless creature of war. Setsuna was a man of peace.

“Ibrahim died long ago from war,” Setsuna eventually said. “Please, call me Setsuna.”

He took her hand, letting her pull him up and away from the bench, away from the shadows. He squinted in the light, stumbled–but was still standing, steadied by Marina. He offered her a small nod of thanks, the two of them moving toward the press, toward the future.


End file.
